Give in to Me
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: When you come close to losing somebody, everything becomes a memory. When you get your second chance with them, you thrive to make new ones.


**Summary: When you come close to losing somebody, everything becomes a memory. When you get your second chance with them, you thrive to make new ones.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I heard "Give into Me" during Country Strong but I think it belongs to Faith Hill even though it sounds prettier when Garrett and Leighton sing it.**

**A/N: I just really love those stories about Ron and Hermione in the bath so I wrote one.**

** "Give into Me"**

_**I'm gonna wear you down**_

_**I'm gonna make you see**_

_**I'm gonna get to you**_

_**You're gonna give into me**_

**Ron**

**I**

He sat in the tiny turquoise bedroom of the Shell Cottage, in an oak chair next to the double bed. He didn't dare touch her due to his fear of hurting her; he was waiting, just waiting for her to show him a flicker of life. He had never been so terrified in his life, he knew there had been chance that one of them could be lost but he never thought it would actually happen.

He examined the girl carefully, not with utter awe as he usually did but with fear that she may never be the same again. Her hair was frazzled, bushier than usual and looked as if it was carrying some sort of electrical current. Her body looked mangled, bloody and dirt caked. He wondered if she was in pain, she probably was and he couldn't bear that.

She stirred, her eye brilliant brown eyes opening slightly. "Ron?" moaned Hermione

Ron stroked her cheek, his fingers barely grazing her skin in fear of hurting her. "I-I am here, Hermione," he whispered. "Do you need anything?"

Hermione swallowed harshly. "A bath, I need a bath," she admitted. "I feel so dirty."

Ron shook his head. "Not now," he reasoned, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to stand up right now."

She let out a painful shaky breath. "Please Ronald, I can smell her, feel her," pleaded Hermione, "I just want her off me."

"Hermione-"

"Ron, you can help me if that will make it better," she suggested, longingly, "just help me."

Ron looked at her, finally that flicker of life he had been waiting for came forth but now he wanted nothing more for her to fall back asleep. He was afraid to help her, he was afraid of jostling her the wrong way. But he look into her eyes, and saw the utter disgust in them. She looks uncomfortable, completely and utterly uncomfortable. He knows part of his is his fault, and would do anything to make her feel better.

"Okay."

**II**

Somehow she had convinced him to join her in tub (not much), He of course sat in clad in my bright orange Chudley Cannons boxers, while she sat hunched over in front of him completely naked and freshly washed hair pulled up; her horribly battered skin completely exposed to him. Normally he would have taken this as a turn on, seeing this beautiful girl, the girl he loved naked and exposed in front but he just felt sad. She looked so vulnerable, not her usual headstrong self.

Ron took a wash cloth pulled it gently down her back; she relaxed into his touch as he washed the remaining dirt off of her. When he was done he plopped the wash cloth back down into the water, and she did something surprising; Hermione rested against his bare chest, covering her breasts with one arm and rested the other on top of his which lay across the side of the bath.

"Thank you," she sighed, "it feels so good to be clean."

Ron wrapped his arm hesitantly across her collarbone, nestling her between his legs. "It was the least I could do," he breathed.

Hermione looked up at him with curious eyes. "You did more than enough, you saved me," she interjected, wistfully as she stroked his cheek.

Ron rested his cheek into her palm, and stroked the word etched onto her arm, the ugly, ugly word. "I didn't get there soon enough," he pointed out, sorrowfully.

Hermione grabbed his hand placed it on her chest, directly over her heart. He choked on his breath harshly, feeling her arm wet skin under his hand. It felt so delicate and lovely, but he controlled himself, not daring to move his hand. "I am here though," she crooned.

Ron nodded, "maybe so but you're hurt," he pointed out.

"Better than dead."

His chest tightened, and he squeezed her just a little tighter. "I couldn't live with myself if that had happened," he sniffled.

Hermione squeezed the top of his hand, "Hey," she sighed. "I want you to know that I was thinking of you while she was- I thought what if our last memories of each other was a fight and if I survived how I would want to make some new ones and so I am here and we are going to make new ones," declared Hermione.

Ron looked down and finally snuck a small peak, taking her all in; her beauty, her everything.. He lean let shapely legs, the curve where her waist met her thigh. He felt like a pig, but he really just felt his breath catch. Hermione sat up and turned towards him; she looked slightly amused and slight offput.

Hermione kept her arms tightly across her chest. "Stop gawking at me, Ronald," she ordered, brashly.

Ron smirked, "just making a new memory," he cracked.

**A/N: Review? ;)**


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